Little Events
by One Fine Wire
Summary: "The pathetic almost always consists in the details of little events."


**Little Events**

"The pathetic almost always consists in the details of **little events**."

~Edward Gibbon~

* * *

"This is pathetic," Helga Pataki muttered, the smell of alcohol visible in her breath and on her skin, mixed only slightly with the scent of her favorite bubblegum and cucumber melon perfume. She snapped her fingers at the bartender, a small, mousy twenty-something male with translucent skin, greasy bright red hair, and a small, golden, circular name badge with the name "Ian" etched into it in bold, capital letters on his pinstriped vest. "Another bottle," she said shortly, _"And don't keep me waiting this time, moron."_

"Mademoiselle," the bartender, said, "This is your fourth bottle. Are you sure you wouldn't care for a lighter drink this time around?"

"_Positive,"_ Helga snapped, _"This is a party, not the Inquisition."_

"Actually, Mademoiselle, it's a ball," Ian retorted coolly with an edge to his voice as he rolled his eyes whilst repeating verbatim, "This is a ball hosted by Mr. and Mrs. Buckley Lane Lloyd, celebrating the engagement of their daughter, Rhonda Wellington Lloyd to Thaddeus Antonius Gammelthorpe."

Helga snorted. "How embarrassing for you," she said, "Being forced to recite that mouthful of words every blasted minute of this _ball,_ or whatever the hell you call this damn shindig."

"It _is_ a ball, Mademoiselle," Ian sighed lazily, holding Helga's bottle of vodka out for her.

"It's not a ball if they're serving vodka in a bottle," Helga sneered, snatching the bottle from the bartender, leaving him slightly alarmed. "You'd expect these _balls_ to be more _formal,_ even down to the drinks, wouldn't you?"

She unscrewed the lid off the bottle and took her first sip. _"Pathetic,"_ Helga said, rolling her eyes to the ceiling before surveying the room around her.

Aside from the abundance of vodka, Rhonda Lloyd's engagement ball was actually the very epitome of formality, with the large, crystal chandelier, encrusted with diamonds and pearls, descending from the ceiling. Gold, silver, and white ribbons cascaded from the chandelier and adorned the ceiling tastefully, making the ballroom appear larger than it actually was, considering that it was the biggest room in the Lloyd estate. All the lights in the chandelier were on, making the room bright and enclosing all its occupants in a sort of surrealistic light. It appeared as though everyone was reflected in the very jewels of the chandelier itself. A live band played various slow songs, making Helga feel ill and forcing her to down her vodka in just a few, short, gulps. Her throat burned as she continued observing her surroundings – watching as an assortment of foods, such as caviar, Cornish game hen, various fruits and vegetables with their respective dips, dinner rolls, and Caesar salads were served from one of the two buffets; the other buffet consisted of desserts, ranging from a chocolate fountain to red velvet cake, slices of tiramisu and various puddings in shot glasses. Helga turned around and noticed some of the guests ordering martinis and various wines from the bar. She nodded curtly at Ian before turning her back at the bar again.

"Pathetic," Helga sighed vehemently. "I can't even deny the fact that the Lloyds can throw a formal ball."

Nor could she deny the fact that Arnold Shortman was dancing with another woman and that her heart broke minute by minute as she watched the two of them. They smiled, unable to take their eyes off the other person, and Helga's heart broke a little more at seeing Arnold's face light up upon staring at the woman before him.

Years of waiting for each other did nothing to save Arnold and Helga's relationship. During their university years, the two of them studied abroad at separate times; Helga spent her junior and senior years in England, Ireland, Scotland, and France, studying Literature. Meanwhile Arnold spent the first semester of his senior year, and one semester of graduate work, in various countries around the world snagging internships as he pursued degrees in International Relations, Global Health, and Psychology. When the two of them weren't jet setting around the world, they spent every waking moment together, and sent postcards to the other person religiously when they were separated. Their relationship had always been a complex one, filled with some stormy times, mostly due to Helga's dysfunctional family life. Yet, Arnold promised Helga the world as well as his love despite all the opposition facing them. Before Arnold left for Mozambique to study abroad during graduate school, he promised Helga that they'd continue talking about marriage, like they had for some time.

Marriage was a topic that both excited and scared Helga. She loved Arnold ever since she was a child, yet the thought of being tied down scared her. She saw firsthand how being married destroyed her mother's life; granted, it didn't help that Miriam married the wrong person and always let her husband keep her down, but it instilled a fear of being hurt, of rejection, into Helga at a young age. Arnold knew this, and when the topic of marriage came up shortly before he departed for Mozambique, they went into their discussion of the topic slowly and with great caution.

Helga breathed deeply as she averted her eyes from Arnold and his new… _fiancée._ It pained her to even _think_ the word, though she only did so in her mind. Knowing she couldn't stare at the ceiling forever, by herself, she turned her gaze back to Arnold and his future wife, who now stood on the sidelines, kissing passionately as Arnold's hands rested on her waist.

Her name was Asha Grant-Papadopoulos, and she hailed from a family of British, Indian, and Greek descent. Born on the Santorini Islands and raised all over the world, from places such as Israel, Austria, Dubai, and even New York City, she accompanied her parents – an explorer father and a sociologist mother, who devoted their lives to studying various cultures, customs, and religious practices in different parts of the world, all over the globe. She was a striking young woman, with thick, jet black hair that fell to her waist in loose, Grecian curls that framed her long, slender face perfectly. Her amber eyes were wide and prominent and her mouth was small and delicate. Her complexion was golden, tan, and flawless, and she wore a fitted, jade green dress that matched Arnold's tie. Silver bangles on her wrist and the silver hoops in her ears swayed to the music once again, as she and Arnold returned to the dance floor. When Arnold dipped her during the waltz, she laughed gently as he pressed his lips to her throat and Helga took notice of the diamond ring on her finger.

Helga felt pathetic just staring at it.

She didn't used to feel this way; over the years, Helga blossomed and came to know her worth as a person. She embraced her strengths as a writer and voracious reader; she read anything she could get her hands on, and submitted her work to newspapers, magazines, and literary journals. When introduced to Jane Austen, Helga let herself free and embraced the romantic side of herself, no longer keeping it a secret. She finally came into her skin. She finally loved herself. When Arnold came into the picture and promised Helga the world and all its inhabitants, she walked on cloud nine.

He was not only her true love, her obsession.

He was her life.

And after years of pining after Arnold, worshipping him, and knowing every intimate detail of him, Helga was sure she understood him completely and always knew when something was not quite right…

Or so she thought.

…

When Helga woke up exactly five years previous at 8:45 in the morning, it rained. The sky was gray. Still, Helga felt amazing. It was spring break, and she was back in Hillwood for the next two weeks. Arnold was finally coming home from Mozambique, and had asked Helga in his last letter if she would pick him up from the airport.

His letters tapered off slightly a month earlier, but Helga thought nothing of it; she assumed Arnold was busy administering to the Mozambicans and studying their health conditions, gathering all the information he could about their health practices as apart of his Master's program in Global Health. The fact that Arnold wrote Helga so much in the beginning and seldom wrote her in the later months didn't faze her. She, too, was busy with pursuing a joint Masters-Doctorate degree in Creative Writing and British Literary Studies, and her life was consumed with nothing but books to read and papers to write. She didn't have time to write him, either. While getting ready to pick him up, she looked briefly at the piece of paper on her desk, piled with the works of Jane Austen, Oscar Wilde, Rudyard Kipling and Geoffrey Chaucer, along with reams of typed papers, where she'd started her letter to Arnold nearly three weeks ago. It merely had the words "Dear Arnold" written onto it. Helga crumpled the paper up into a ball and threw it into the trashcan on her way out the door.

"There's no need for letters now!" Helga sang, as she waltzed down the stairs of her apartment complex, climbed into her car, and began driving. The song, "Walking on Sunshine", blared through her speakers on repeat as she drove to the airport. When drivers grew irritated with her, she simply gave them the finger. Moments from now, she'd be in Arnold's arms again, and the possibilities were endless – marriage, children, having luxurious careers in the chosen professions they were both satisfied with – Arnold, traveling around the world, following in the footsteps of his parents, improving the living conditions of those in third-world countries, and Helga, writing bestsellers whilst accompanying Arnold on his travels. She and Arnold hadn't discussed it, but in merely talking about marriage, she knew that this was what the future held for them… and she looked forward to it.

Her heart swelled when she saw him with his luggage, waiting for her. He was much thinner now, and his hair, longer, and falling into his large green eyes. He looked exhausted, but Helga never felt more awake.

"Arnold!" she exclaimed, waving at him from her car.

When he saw her, he smiled wanly and nodded. After putting his luggage in the truck and climbing onto the front seat, Helga pulled herself toward him and kissed him deeply on the lips.

"How was Mozambique?" she asked. "I know you told me in the letters and pictures you sent me, but I want to hear your voice."

Arnold breathed and smiled at her, though the light in his eyes seemed to have disappeared. "It was great, Helga," he said. "Really great."

"Is that all?" Helga inquired, as the confusion began setting in, "It was just 'great?'"

Arnold shrugged and slumped his head slightly against the window.

"Maybe he's just tired," Helga thought hopefully. "Jet lag can really do that… I'll let him rest for a few days before I press him anymore."

After dropping him off, Helga laid low for a few days. She wrote a critical analysis on "An Ideal Husband", which took up nearly all her free time. She sent Olga an e-mail. She went to the local bakery and bought one too many doughnuts. After nine days, she finally called Arnold and asked if they could get together. He agreed, and asked if they could meet by the pier.

The day was cloudy and it was sprinkling on and off. When Helga got to the pier, she noticed Arnold sitting at the very end, dangling his legs over the edge, his thick, blonde hair blowing in the breeze. She waltzed over and sat by him, kissing him on the cheek while she put her arm around him.

"Hey Football Head," she said. "We have some catching up to do."

Arnold nodded. He looked awake and alert, but Helga sensed that something was wrong.

"What have you been up to?"

"Sleeping, trying to get my internal clock back to being awake during the day and asleep at night," Arnold said, smiling. The light in his eyes had yet to make a reappearance. "I've been spending time with my parents. I talked to Gerald on the phone… he's doing good."

Helga shook her head. "Arnold, what is it?" she demanded. "Something's off with you. What's the matter?"

Arnold sighed. "Helga, I've been thinking," he said, staring right into her eyes, "About some things…"

"And!" Helga inquired. "Maybe he's proposing!" she thought instantly; she was an idealist, after all. "That's probably why he seems different – he's just afraid I'll say no!"

"Helga," Arnold said gently, putting his hand onto her shoulder, "I think I need some more time to evaluate what I'm doing with my life. You were my first girlfriend and the first person I fell in love with, Helga, but I feel like some things in our relationship are moving way too fast."

"**WHAT?"** Helga exploded. She was shocked. How could Arnold say that the two of them were moving too fast? They were just talking about marriage three months ago, and occasionally, the topic came up in his earlier letters. After calming down, Helga demanded," **What are you saying, Football Head?"**

Arnold sighed. "Helga, I'm saying that I need to figure some things out."

"**Did you meet another girl?"**

"No, Helga," Arnold answered. "But I'm looking at you, and trying to picture a future with you like I used to be able to do, and I don't see anything. I can't picture it… and maybe this is just a temporary thing, and maybe it isn't. I need time to figure that out. That's all I'm saying, Helga."

"So you're dumping me?"

"I don't like to think of it that way," Arnold said, "But I need to sort things out before we talk about marriage again… or anything else, for that matter."

Helga breathed deeply. "Don't cry, Helga," she told herself, muttering under her breath, "You're fine. Arnold's fine. Your relationship is fine. This will all blow over, and soon, you'll be back in the arms of your beloved."

"Okay," she said lividly, the anger evident in every word, though her voice was quiet. "That's fine. We could start right now, if you wanted."

She got up from where she was sitting and left, the tears falling down her face the moment she turned her back on Arnold.

…

Looking back, she could just slap herself for being so stupid, for not sensing that something was off in Arnold's final letters to her – that he seemed so _distant,_ even though there was already so much of it between the two of them. How could she not see that something was wrong when she saw him again? That he was missing that visible glow, that light he always had in his eyes whenever he was with her? How could she not see that the light he always carried within him was gone? In the coming days after Arnold ended things with her, where she spent her remaining vacation days in Hillwood moping, and nearly failing a semester's worth of courses, she felt so stupid, so pathetic, for assuming that after years of loving, worshipping, and knowing Arnold so intimately, that he would always love her and that they'd be together forever, only for her to realize that she didn't know him as well as she thought she did.

Of course, the light was back in Arnold's eyes now as he danced, flirted with, kissed, touched, talked with, and was intimate with Asha. He had that familiar glow back. He was happy.

"Hey Arnold!" Stinky Peterson called to him, with a silly redhead wearing too much make-up and a revealing, hot pink dress trailing behind him. "I hear you're engaged!"

Arnold smiled. "This is Asha, my fiancé. Our wedding is in three months, on May fourth."

"My, you sure got a keeper, Arnold!" Stinky exclaimed, eyeing Asha. "I've heard all about your world travels."

"Thank you," Asha said, beaming. Helga rolled her eyes.

"This here is my wife, Matilda," Stinky said, motioning to the woman on his arm. She looked like a twelve-year-old trying to play grow-up. "We've been married for two years now."

Arnold and Asha nodded and shook her hand, getting acquainted with her. She told a joke. They laughed. They chatted with Stinky and Matilda.

"Pathetic," Helga snapped. "God, even _Stinky Peterson_ got married."

Helga surveyed the room again. Arnold, her beloved, and Stinky, weren't the only ones who were attached. _Everyone_ was with somebody. Everybody, except Helga, found someone to love them for exactly who they were – even Eugene, the classroom jinx, was dancing, though haphazardly, with Sheena, who was at least a foot taller than him. _"They'll have interesting looking babies,"_ Helga thought to herself. She continued to watch as her childhood friends danced and mingled with their loved ones – Harold and Patty, Lila and her husband, whom she met in college, Sid and his fiancée… even Timberly, Gerald's younger sister, sported a gold band on her left ring finger. This wasn't fair. Why couldn't Helga be happy too? Why couldn't she find someone who would love her for exactly who she is, despite her strengths and weaknesses? It'd been a long, miserable five years since she and Arnold saw each other, and it still hurt. It was still agonizing, knowing that she had her future right before her eyes at one point, and that it was taken from her in just a few moments. Helga loved Arnold since she was a child, and was sure that she had a set future with him when the two of them began dating. His need to "think things through" changed everything for her. Five years later, Helga had the education that people would die for under her belt. She found success as a writer and traveled extensively. She vacationed and owned vacation homes in Vienna and Fiji. Helga did not go without, but she was not happy.

She was not happy because she went without love.

Because she went without love, it was the littlest things – such as Timberly's wedding ring, and the littlest events – such as Rhonda Lloyd's extravagant engagement ball that she normally would've cared less about, that made her realize that she wanted something she couldn't have, that Arnold was happy without her, that everyone seemed to have found someone. Except for her. The littlest things culminated into bigger things and made her feel every shade of pathetic.

Helga wiped the tears from her eyes that were threatening to fall. No. She would not cry. She would not let Arnold see her tears. She walked over to where all the guests gathered around Rhonda and Curly. Helga raised her eyebrows – a toast, perhaps, in honor of the happy couple?

"Thank you everyone, for coming to our engagement ball," Rhonda said joyously. "Thank you all for coming to celebrate our engagement!"

"_Thank you very much!"_ Curly said, winking to the audience before planting a kiss onto Rhonda's lips.

"Our wedding will take place a year from now," Rhonda announced. "On your way out will be a basket of save the date cards. Please take one when you make your exit!" Everyone cheered and applauded loudly. Too loudly. The noise around her made Helga return to the bar for a vodka.

Rhonda, smiling widely, continued, "Speaking of good news, Gerald and Phoebe have an announcement."

Gerald and Phoebe looked at each other, smiling. They held hands and walked up to where Rhonda and Curly stood. They were married six years ago; Arnold was Gerald's best man, Helga, Phoebe's maid of honor. Helga thought it was foreshadowing of the future, but it was not. She sighed and turned her attention to Phoebe and Gerald. Her best friend was glowing. "Thank you Rhonda, Curly," Gerald said, "For this fabulous ball you've thrown, and for letting Phoebe and I share our good news."

Phoebe, with her contagious smile, exclaimed, "We're expecting!"

More cheers erupted throughout the ballroom. There was simultaneous clapping. Wine glasses clinked. When Gerald hugged his wife close to him, Helga left the room. She couldn't stand to be in there, watching all the happy couples. Watching everyone be happy… except for her.

…

The night was dark and starry. It was a full moon. The night itself was still young and beautiful, and often, such a scene would inspire a creative spark in Helga, but not tonight. She felt empty. Helga touched her chest gently, where she still kept her locket of Arnold. Reaching into her dress, she pulled out the gold, heart shaped locket, and touched the picture of a nine-year-old Arnold with a sheepish grin, inside it gently.

"Arnold," Helga sighed, "It's been _five years._ Five years since you told me you had to think through things and certain aspects in our relationship because you weren't sure what you wanted. I was heartbroken, but I was idealistic. I believed you would come back to me and that we would lead a beautiful life together. It's been five years since we last spoke to each other. _Five years, and you never bothered to keep in touch with me?_ Then again," she lamented, "I didn't keep in touch with you either… even though I wanted you back."

"Helga?" the voice was familiar.

She turned around, putting the locket back into the chest of her dress clumsily so no one would see it. _"Arnold?"_ she demanded. _"What are you doing here, Football Head?"_

"I just wanted to get some fresh air," he answered, standing next to her, with his hands in his pockets. He glanced at her slightly. "You look nice."

"Thanks," Helga said, blushing deeply. Though Helga felt pathetic, she certainly didn't look that way. Her dress was a deep red, strapless, and fell to her knees. The top half of the dress was fitted and frilly, but the skirt flowed and flared out whenever she turned around, and was also decked out in lace and frills. Her blonde hair was long and loosely pulled back with a red headband, with white pearls accenting it. She wore pearl earrings and dashed some make-up across her face. Helga knew she looked hot, and since losing her unibrow years ago, often turned heads wherever she went.

The silence was there. Helga sighed when she realized that there were no words between she and Arnold.

"So, your fiancée," Helga said, in an attempt to start a conversation, "How is she?"

"Asha," Arnold said, smiling, the light in his eyes apparent. "She's great, Helga. Really great. We met in Kenya two years ago. She's a zoologist and I was there with a group of doctors, observing the conditions of the villages there. We were trying to figure out what we could to do to improve the conditions there, and lead the people there to have a better, healthier life. We bumped into each other and just clicked," he said, chuckling to himself. "It's been awesome being with her."

"_How cute,"_ Helga thought, _"Their first meeting is so awfully identical to when his parents met."_ She heard that story many times before. Too many. "So the wedding's set for May?"

Arnold nodded. "May fourth. We're getting married here, in Hillwood…." his voice trailed off, and the silence was there again. "What have you been up to, Helga?" he asked, his voice showing a genuine interest in her current life.

"Nothing really," Helga mused. "I travel a lot. I'm writing. Living. Happy." She shrugged. It wasn't entirely true, but she didn't want Arnold to know that her unhappiness lay in the fact that she couldn't have him.

"I'm a fan of your work," Arnold said, blushing slightly. "You've always been a gifted writer, Helga."

"_Sure you are, Football Head,"_ Helga spat. _"Don't try to win me over with your attempts to kiss up to me, with your thoughts that we can be friends again after -"_

"After _what,_ Helga?" Arnold demanded, his green eyes piercing her blue ones.

"_After you broke my heart,"_ she mumbled softly, but the words came out slurred and incoherent to Arnold's ears.

Arnold sighed and pulled Helga into his arms, holding her close. "I'm sorry you're upset with me, Helga, but I'm with Asha now. I love her and I'm looking forward to us spending our lives together."

"Traveling all over the world, making discoveries, improving the lives of those in foreign lands… just like your parents before you," Helga muttered darkly, her face pressed into Arnold's jacket. The tears fell down her cheeks, and she wiped them with his tie. She wondered if he would notice the tearstains. "But I love you," she whispered. "I always have."

When Arnold released her, he put his hand onto her right shoulder. "I may be with Asha now, but I still miss you," Arnold said. "I want us to be friends. I've always wished that the need to reevaluate my life didn't have to keep us apart. I wish that we would've talked these past five years. It's my fault, Helga. I should've seen how you were doing, but I needed my space. I needed to be away from everyone and everything to figure out what I wanted. You're probably thinking that being in Mozambique should've done that for me, but it didn't." He gave Helga a soft smile. "San Lorenzo did, though."

"Always the do-gooder, aren't you, Football Head?" Helga said quietly. "Just like your parents… out to change the world for the better."

Arnold laughed gently. "Not really," he shrugged. He pulled Helga close to him and kissed her gently on the cheek.

She was in heaven.

"Best of luck to you, Pataki," he said, with his bright green eyes illuminating his face. "I miss you."

Before walking back into the Lloyd estate, Arnold looked at Helga briefly, those green eyes of his reading into her. They said, _"I loved you once."_

Helga returned the stare. Her eyes said, _"I still love you."_

When Arnold walked back inside, Helga got out her locket again and held it close to her. Looking down into Arnold's nine-year-old face, she finally realized that she was deeply in love with him, but that he would never return her love. She knew it, she realized it, but a little part of her still didn't accept it.

She left the party early that night.

…

Two months later, Helga received a wedding invitation, informing her that the pleasure of her company was requested at the wedding of Arnold Philip Shortman and Asha Susan Grant-Papadopoulos. The invitation picture showed the two of them with a gorgeous sunset in the background with the ocean waves only enhancing it. Asha looked stunning, and Arnold, handsome. Helga knew his wedding to Asha was only inevitable, but that little part of her still held onto that hope, that irrational faith, that Arnold would come back to her; that he would leave Asha and the altar and confess his love to Helga at that instant. He would wrap her in his arms, kiss her, and promise to never leave her.

The whole concept was stupid. It was pathetic that Helga still thought that Arnold would leave Asha for her. She knew it, but that didn't stop her from thinking it, from hoping, from keeping her locket with Arnold's fourth grade picture inside and singing soliloquies to it.

On the day of the wedding, Helga showed up at the newly erected Hillwood Gardens, where the ceremony was to take place. The gardens were decorated beautifully, with white rose petals lining the walkway, and brightly colored tropical flowers in bloom all down the aisle. The two archways were made of white roses with white plumerias and hibiscuses intertwined between them. Helga took her seat next to Phoebe, who was now six months pregnant and showing. Gerald wasn't sitting next to his wife because he was in the wedding party. Phoebe tried to keep Helga entertained and occupied, but Helga only stared dismally at the wedding program, the cover showing a picture of Arnold dipping Asha, his arms around her waist, kissing her deeply on the beach as the sun set in the sky. While waiting for the wedding to begin, Helga spotted her classmates, either married, or with someone. Even the smallest display of public affection – a kiss on the cheek, a husband playing with his wife's hair, set Helga off and made her nervous. Moments before the music began playing, Helga watched as Arnold took his place to the right of the minister, where he would watch the bridal party, and then Asha, walk down the aisle.

The music, which was a lyrical combination of the piano and acoustic guitar, began. Helga watched solemnly as Arnold's parents, then Asha's mother, made their way down the aisle. Next, was the bridal party, the bridesmaids consisting of Asha's younger sister, who was her maid of honor, and her cousins. Gerald was Arnold's best man, and the most of the groomsmen were his friends from graduate school, although Sid, Stinky, and Harold were groomsmen themselves.

When the minister said, "Please stand for the bride," Helga felt herself shaking. Everyone turned and watched as Ava, looking like Greek goddess in her flowing white dress, with subtle, gold accents, gracefully walked down the aisle with her father, holding a large bouquet of white hibiscuses. Her hair was pulled back in a loose, holiday twist with a gold headband accented with small rosebuds. Small, loose curls and a pair of gold earrings framed her face gently. She glowed with happiness. Helga turned her head slowly and felt disheartened at the expression on Arnold's face. He was glowing too, smiling widely, his green eyes dancing with mirth. After Asha and her father finished their walk down the aisle, Helga sat down with the rest of the audience.

During the ceremony, Helga was in a daze. She didn't want to listen to Arnold and Asha's vows, and she didn't want to listen as Arnold pledged his love to his new bride, because doing so would only force Helga to accept the fact that Arnold would never return her love. When the minister asked if anyone objected to their union, Helga wanted to speak up, to scream that she loved Arnold since she was a child and still did, that she knew him intimately and better than Asha did. Helga still had those childhood dreams of hers – to travel around the world with Arnold, to make a perfume named after them – _Arnold and Helga_, to lead a blissfully romantic life with him. Those dreams never left her as she grew up.

But she didn't. She didn't stand up and she didn't object. She stayed seated.

"_If you love Arnold,"_ she thought to herself, _"__**Truly**_ _love him, you will accept the fact that he will_ _**never**_ _return your love. __**You will stay seated. You will not verbally object to this union.**__ If you love Arnold, you will_ _**not**_ _take away his happiness or the lifetime he has ahead with Asha._ _**If you love him, you will not take away her happiness either. If you love him, you will move on."**_

Helga sighed, finally accepting the truth. She loved Arnold, but he would never return her love. When the minister pronounced Arnold and Asha husband and wife, he dipped her slowly and kissed her passionately amidst the applause. After the minister presented the new Mr. and Mrs. Arnold Philip Shortman to the guests, they ran down the aisle happily, encouraging everyone to follow them.

Helga walked out of the Hillwood Gardens slowly and was the last to leave. She did not head to the reception, located at the west end of the Hillwood Gardens. Instead, she walked to the same pier where Arnold and Helga briefly spent their Thanksgiving as fourth graders, the same place where the two of them often hung out, and where Arnold ended their relationship five years previous.

She stood at the very edge, the tears falling, finally, accepting the fact that Arnold no longer loved her. She looked down into the water, and took off her locket. Holding it close to her chest, she said, "Arnold, I loved you for so long. It took me a while to accept this, but you will never return that."

With all her might, Helga put her right hand back and threw the locket into the harbor. She watched it fall into the water, where it would sink to the bottom. Perhaps, a hundred years from now, someone would find it and wonder to whom the locket belonged. Would that person realize how much the former owner of her locket loved the young boy whose picture was inside it?

Helga breathed deeply. "Farewell, my love," she said. "Have a fabulous, healthy, and successful life. I free you," she said, blowing a kiss. She turned around, wiped the tears from her eyes, and got out her cell phone. She called her secretary, and asked if she could book Helga a one-way ticket to Spain. Shortly before the wedding, Helga made an offer on a vacation house along the Spanish coast. To her delight, the owners accepted it shortly afterward, and it was exactly what Helga needed.

When her secretary informed her that Helga was on her way to Spain in two day's time, she thanked her secretary and hung up. She needed a change of scenery.

Helga walked away from the pier with no regrets. For the first time in five years, she smiled.


End file.
